


Oh, Allah, help me!

by ConnorProject2K17



Series: Aladdin [1]
Category: Aladdin (1992)
Genre: Implied Sexual Content, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-04
Updated: 2017-12-04
Packaged: 2019-02-10 14:27:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12913812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ConnorProject2K17/pseuds/ConnorProject2K17
Summary: An eighteen year old Jafar wakes up in an opium den, with some questions.Also, you know how he wears eyeliner in the movie? Well he wears it here too.Also, also, remember the guard at the beginning of the movie? "I'll have your hands for a trophy, street rat!" yeah, him? Razoul? Well he's eighteen in this too.Don't be alarmed.Not a crack fic.





	Oh, Allah, help me!

The blaring light hit my eyelids, and I huffed angrily, pressing further against the thing I was leaning on. It’s solid, and pretty soft, and makes a great pillow. But it’s too late, I’m already awake, and the light won’t go away.

  
I sigh and sit up, hissing as my bones click. I open my eyes, which are all crusty and dry. I must have forgotten to remove my makeup.

  
Speaking of which, my lipstick feels weird. Probably because it isn’t on my lips. It’s smeared all over my mouth, making my face feel stiff and slimy. I move to get up, and my elbow knocks against something. Blinking rapidly to see through the smudged eyeliner, I look over and-

  
Shit. Shit shit shit shit shit.

  
Razoul. Is sitting. Next to me. His head’s rolled back, and he’s breathing heavily through his mouth.

  
Which has traces of transparent, slippery lipstick. It isn’t obvious -thank Allah- but when you’ve been wearing it for as long as I have, it becomes a lot more noticeable. The light still hasn’t gone away, catching the lipstick and making the dots of glitter shine.

  
I feel the overwhelming urge to kiss him.

  
No.

  
To feel our lips pressed together again.

  
Stop it.

  
His manly lips –can lips be manly? Apparently so- against my thin ones. Are mine thin though? Because if I’m mistaken for a girl so often it must mean they’re quite thin.

  
“Shut up!”

  
A voice jolts me out of my thoughts -again, thank you- and I accidently hit Razoul. He grunts softly and huddles up closer. It’s (not) adorable.

  
The voice comes again, but it’s quieter this time. I take any excuse to away from the (not) adorable young man next to me, and quickly scramble next to my feet. I run (Limp. Oww, I am sore) to the other side of the hall, which proves difficult as my trousers refuse to stay up. As I make my way across, I see my belt in the corner of the room.

  
I choose to ignore it, and carefully press my ear against the closed door. Unfortunately my imagination doesn’t listen, and several images through my mind.

  
Razoul on his knees. Razoul panting. Razoul-

  
Thankfully a voice interrupts me before I can go any further.

  
“The emperor will be here any day now, and we aren’t nearly ready!”

  
“Oh hush. The servants are working tirelessly, and with Jafar in charge you know we can get it sorted in time.”

  
I grin a bit at that. It sounds like a conversation between the Sultana and her husband.

  
“Yes dear, I know, but if the trade deal doesn’t go well…”

  
I stopped listening after a while, it’s just boring politics and Allah knows I’m too tired to care right now.  
I’m also sore, did I mention that yet? My entire lower half feels like it’s on fire.

  
I hear footsteps and hold my breath. I pray to every deity who’s ever existed that they don’t find me. My insides feel sticky. Looking down, I realise that it’s not just my inside. White gooey stuff is dripping out of my trousers, and I don’t need to ask to know what it is. It’s amazing I’m only feeling it now.

  
There’s more talking, and I drag my attention back to the door. I don’t know how long passes, but eventually the footsteps get quieter. A door closes. I wait a bit longer to make sure no one’s there and exhale loudly.  
Thank you every deity who’s ever existed.

  
A sigh is heard behind me, and I look back to see Razoul waking up and make my way over. The friction between my legs makes it hard.

  
-Hard?-

  
Rough.

  
-Rough?-

  
_Difficult_

  
Razoul’s awake. He clears his throat awkwardly and looks at me. I lean down to his level and look into his eyes. He is so-no-I mean-oh shit.

  
He’s gorgeous. I’d say ‘no homo’, the growing heat between my legs says otherwise.  
I don’t what compels me to do it -yes you do, stop lying- but I kiss him.

  
It’s soft, and only lasts a second long before I pull away.

  
“The emperor of China’s comi- arriving in a few days, so we’ll have to work overtime.”

And I leave the room.


End file.
